This thing feels like somebody smashed together every horny Japan fantasy from old forums, some meme culture, and then just let it run free on your phone while you pretend you’re checking WhatsApp in public. You’re this dude dropped into “country of the rising sun” territory, but it’s not trying to be deep or realistic. It’s more like scrolling horny Twitter, then suddenly you’re in the middle of a harem adventure where everyone has gravity‑defying tits and no sense of personal space. First girl I met had boobs so big they were practically their own side characters, bouncing like they’re animated on a slightly drunk Friday night. She’s flirting, you’re picking dialogue, suddenly it goes from joking about anime to her pressed against you in a train, nipples poking through the uniform like the fabric is begging for mercy. And the game just shrugs like “yeah, that’s normal here.”

What I really liked is it pretends to be a laid-back sandbox romance, then slips a parody scene right in the middle of you trying to be a decent guy. One moment you’re walking around some generic city street, basic UI at the bottom, checking your messages, thinking you’re playing it smooth like in a dating sim. Next moment, a crossover event slaps you in the face: a familiar “totally not that famous waifu from that big anime” shows up, with bigger tits, new name, same chaotic energy. She cracks a dirty joke, the game breaks the fourth wall, and suddenly you’re in her room, clothes half off, phone vibrating on the bed, and she’s riding you like she’s trying to break a speedrun record. The sex scenes go straight to the point: pussy shots, close view, her moaning in that over-the-top anime style while your character’s just hanging on for dear life. There is one romance path where you actually feel something like feelings, then the script instantly ruins it with some dumb gag and I kind of loved that, even if it pissed me off. Vaginal scenes are done like old-school hentai loops, lots of focus on those huge boobs bouncing in rhythm, cum dripping, her legs wrapped around you while the camera refuses to be modest. Sometimes the pacing is all over the place, like you switch from a funny harem argument to a hardcore fuck session with almost no buildup, and it shouldn’t work, but somehow that chaos kind of fits the whole vibe. I opened it once just to “check something quick” and ended up stuck on a long scene with three girls teasing each other over who gets to sit on your lap first, like a horny version of musical chairs that never ends properly.

On mobile it’s very “one hand for phone, one hand for you,” which feels intentional. Text choices, quick taps, small icons, you’re flirting while your bus stop is getting closer and closer and you’re absolutely not stopping the scene. There’s this one adventure-style part where you’re moving between locations, picking who to visit, and you accidentally trigger a chain where two big-boob heroines end up arguing over you at a café. They lean in, tits almost on the table, voices rising, and some NPCs in the background are drawn like they know exactly what’s about to happen. Next cut, one drags you somewhere “private,” shoves your back to the wall, yanks your pants down, and starts riding your dick raw, her breasts slapping your chest, sweat on her collarbone catching the light. The parody side keeps leaking in: a character referencing gacha pulls while literally “pulling” your cock, or romance flags popping right when she’s moaning your name with her pussy clenching on you. It’s stupid, overcharged, self-aware, actually kind of sweet in a very horny, very not-safe-for-anything way, and incredibly easy to play with your thumb while you pretend you’re just checking Instagram.

This one feels like watching a therapy session where the camera gets way too honest and nobody hits the brakes at the right time. You’re stuck in the guy’s head, this therapist who’s supposed to be all calm and clinical, and at first he really tries. He asks the right questions, takes notes, pretends he doesn’t see her tits pressing against that way-too-tight top when she leans forward. The whole thing is just two people in a room, talking, and somehow it gets hotter than half the games that throw ten naked models at you in five minutes. Stuff escalates slow. She shifts on the couch, her skirt rides up, he adjusts his glasses like that’s gonna hide the fact his eyes are locked on her ass. And the camera loves her body. Big tits, big ass, that soft, almost glossy skin that 3D smut devs do when they actually care about light. Everything is animated just enough so you feel every little move: legs crossing, fingers fidgeting, her tongue touching her lip when she lies. That lip thing killed me, honestly.

At some point the talk moves into her boyfriend situation, and it stops being harmless fantasy. There’s cheating all over the place, just not shouted about. She hints that he doesn’t satisfy her, teases about what she really needs, and you can see the therapist trying to keep the professional tone while his brain is screaming. You get these dialogue choices where you can stay polite or push a little, and when you choose the “wrong” answer, it’s very obviously the right one for horny people. One second he is asking about her anxiety, next second she is on his lap, grinding, whispering shit in his ear about how she always wanted an older man with power over her. Her lips around his cock feel extra dirty because five minutes earlier she was talking about trauma like it was a TED Talk. The game doesn’t flinch away from interracial stuff either, just puts it on screen and lets you sit with how taboo it feels in a clinical, white-wall office. There’s groping that starts as “accidental” and ends with him palming her tits like he owns them, and actual vaginal sex where the animations are slow and weighty, not that jackhammer nonsense. It looks good, even when her hair clips through her shoulder sometimes, which pissed me off more than it should and now I can’t unsee it. The session is only about an hour, totally on rails like a kinetic novel, but in that time it goes from calm conversation to her riding him on the therapist chair while the clock on the wall keeps ticking like nothing special is happening. Reminded me weirdly of browsing old Winamp skins while listening to chiptune playlists on Spotify, that same cozy, retro brain vibe, except here you’re getting a blowjob between questions about childhood.

Sound is surprisingly on point too. Not some huge soundtrack, just low ambient music and these little breathing noises that make the oral scenes way more intense than they visually should be. The moans aren’t overdone, more like that quiet, breathy kind when she’s trying to keep control and totally fails. When he finally loses his “I’m a professional” mask and just grabs her, pushes her against the couch and slides into her, there’s this tiny pause before the first thrust where nothing moves, and it hit harder than any giant cumshot. Speaking of, the finishing choices are simple but filthy, and I kind of liked that he doesn’t magically turn into a porn actor god; some angles are awkward, like a real guy who suddenly got everything he fantasized about with his patient and has no idea how to behave. I wish there was more aftercare chat after the sex, like “ok, what now” but the story just kind of leaves you in that sticky, guilty silence, which fits the whole cheating therapist vibe. It’s not subtle, but it also kind of is, and that annoys me a bit because I wanted either full trash or full drama, not this weird mix that somehow works. Anyway, if you ever wanted to see all the professional rules in a therapist office get tossed aside while you watch him slowly grope, kiss, lick, and fuck his patient like it’s the most natural outcome of talking about her problems, that’s basically the entire thing here.

Monet feels like somebody took a regular city, squeezed out all the warmth, and replaced it with glass, chrome and secrets. IRYS throws you in there like you just woke up from a dream you half remember, wearing a cheap suit and an ID badge that says you belong to Deimos. You start as this regular office guy, doing spreadsheets, watching useless meetings on Zoom while pretending to listen, getting coffee that tastes like it was filtered through somebody’s sadness. On the surface it’s that boring corporate life. Then you start noticing small weird things. People know things about you that you never told them. A coworker remembers a night you “spent together” that you’re pretty damn sure never happened. Your boss praises you for a project you have no memory of, and in the same breath hints that you owe him more than just good performance. That’s when the game starts to crawl under your skin a little.

The horny part doesn’t show up like a hentai pop-up. It slips into the routine. You’re in a late-night office review, just you and this colleague with big soft tits almost falling out of her blouse, blue light from the monitor on her skin, both of you talking about quarterly targets like robots. Then there’s a line of dialogue that feels too intimate. She leans in too close. Her hand stays too long on your shoulder. One click and you push her away and keep pretending to be a good boy. Another click and you grab her wrist, pull her into your lap, and suddenly your boring Excel sheet is sharing space with her moans and the sound of your cock sliding into her on the boss’s fancy ergonomic chair. IRYS is like that a lot. It gives you these “professional” masks and waits for you to peel them off. Sex scenes are very physical, animated just enough that when you’re fucking her against the office window or bending her over a lab table, you feel every thrust. Sometimes you are gentle, slow, like she is something you want to protect from this fucked up city. Other times the corruption hits and you use her, hand on her throat, filling her raw and hard while she begs you not to stop, even when the guilt dialogue kicks in afterward and makes you question if those feelings are yours or some Deimos script injected into your brain.

What really got me was how the romance and the sci-fi mess bleed into each other. There is this one scene where you wake up in your small apartment, naked, next to a coworker you definitely did not take home. Her hair is messy, thighs still glistening, your cum leaking out of her, and she looks at you like you have been lovers for months. You check your phone and there are whole chat logs, selfies, dirty pics, little heart emojis, like a full relationship that someone speedran while you were asleep. It feels like the universe glitched and rewrote your fate. As somebody who actually believes in destiny, that hit weird. You start asking: did I really fall for her before and just forgot, or was this romance manufactured in some secret Deimos experiment so they can pull my strings better? Later, when you take her in the back of the office, pressed against a server rack humming with data, her legs wrapped around your waist while you fuck her deep and she whispers that you were “always meant for each other”, you can’t even tell if that’s sweet or just another line of code. The game loves putting you in those moments. You climax inside her during some illegal lab test, alarms faint in the background, and instead of simple post-nut clarity you get this strange dream flash of another timeline where you never joined Deimos and she never existed. IRYS keeps poking: is your dick leading you, or is the company guiding your dick so it can own your heart and your guilt at the same time. I kinda hate that it works so well. I also kinda love it. I’m confused. It fits the city.

You start as this quiet guardian angel, not some shining armor guy, more like a nosy mod in a cursed Discord server, watching a girl in a city that feels cut off from the rest of the world. At first it’s almost calm: narrow streets, fog stuck between the buildings, people pretending they’re normal while catgirls and foxgirls just wander around like it’s nothing. You don’t walk in the city yourself, you nudge it. Tiny choices, small pushes, changing who she meets and what kind of shit she gets dragged into. One run she’s shy, hiding under hoodies and closing curtains, another run she’s half naked in a bar window, acting like she forgot what shame is. The game never stands up and says “here is the corruption route now,” it just lets scenes creep in. A dirty job offer here, a “favor” there, some pervy landlord watching her undress through a crack in the wall while you decide whether to stop it or see what happens next. It feels wrong and interesting at the same time, which I guess is the point.

The city itself slowly turns into this living kink playground if you let it. That quiet back alley becomes the place where she ends up on her knees between two strangers, trying to keep eye contact with you, like she still hopes some angel is actually watching. One decision earlier you told her to take that “easy money,” now she is in a cheap motel room with a group of guys, mascara smeared, trying to act like she’s fine with being used as a cum dump. If you push her harder, the outfits get bolder, tops vanish, skirts get shorter, and suddenly every corner has someone wanting a taste. Interracial scenes in cramped stairwells, public blowjob next to a parked car while a foxgirl girl records it on her phone, lesbian stuff in a steamy bathhouse where she lets another girl pin her to the wall and ride her face until she almost passes out. Sometimes she’s on top, humiliating some poor bastard, spitting in his mouth, choking him a little. Next day she’s the one getting slapped, called a whore, forced to say thank you while a crowd watches and laughs. The game swings between male dom, femdom, and just pure chaos, and the whole time you’re stuck in this weird zen state, clicking options like “encourage” or “ignore” while people choke each other out in graphic, messy detail.

What really hits is when the violence ramps up and the sex doesn’t stop. There is this scene where some thugs drag her behind a warehouse, and it’s not soft at all. She gets pinned to cold concrete, legs forced open, you see the panic, then that fucked up moment where panic turns into something else. Blood, spit, rough thrusts, her voice cracking between begging and moaning, and you’re still there in your little guardian menu, deciding whether to call in a miracle or just let it scar her more. Next playthrough maybe you steer her towards a brothel instead, and now prostitution is almost “cleaner” by comparison: a line of clients, one after another, her learning how to deepthroat while a madam talks about prices. She leans into exhibitionism too, standing under a flickering streetlight in nothing but a thin top, nipples visible, pretending she’s cold while secretly getting turned on by all the staring eyes. Sometimes you do nothing and just watch her through cameras, like a voyeur god, as she lazily rides a guy on a sofa and stares at the invisible you, almost like she knows she’s never alone. The sandbox thing means you just kind of wander between events, trigger something wild, then waste time talking to some random catgirl who wants her tail pulled. It’s messy, uneven, too slow in parts, and yet that fits. Like sex where you both lose rhythm, laugh a bit, then go harder and rougher than before. The girl changes, the city changes, and somewhere in there, you realize you stopped trying to “protect” her and started being curious how far down she can slide.